


Hogwarts Mystery

by Jill_Klein



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-26 10:48:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14999264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jill_Klein/pseuds/Jill_Klein
Summary: Athena Lockhart is haunted by the disappearance of her brother Jacob. With everyone thinking she's cursed too and the foul Merula Snyde willing to make her life at Hogwarts a living hell, can she survive school, find the Cursed Vaults and find out what happened to her brother? With some magic and the help of loving friends, everything is possible.





	1. Haunted

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for choosing this particular story to read. I hope you like reading it as much as I liked writing it. This story happens in the Hogwarts Mystery game scenario, with my character as the main protagonist. The story will unfold along with the game, so while I’m playing I’ll sure upload more chapters. Please note that the events of my story might change future events. In addition, I’d like to point that English is not my mother language, so some misspelling and grammar mistakes may happen during the story. Just a reminder: the majority of characters belong to J. K. Rowling and the Hogwarts Mystery universe. Any comments, critiques and concerns, feel free to contact me.

            I’ve had nightmares before, but not quite like the ones I’m having now. They are dark and sinister, leading me to shadowy corners of my unconsciousness, freezing my soul with an icy cool sensation, which frightens me every time it crosses my mind.

            _Jacob…_

            I wake up drenched in sweat, my heart pounding so fast I’m afraid it might explode from the inside out. I dry the tears that unceasingly fall down my cheeks. Though I’m dripping sweat, I’m feeling cold, like I’m buried in snow.

            The soft gleam of my night light brings me a bit of comfort. I get up, trying to walk as silently as possible to not wake my grandparents, and enter the bedroom across the corridor.

            Jacob’s bedroom.

            It’s become my night routine to wake up from nightmares and wander around his bedroom. It makes me feel better, like he is watching over me. I feel a heavy weight over my heart with the single thought that he might be dead. I close my hands in fists, praying that, wherever he is, he is safe.

            “Athena?” my grandma’s voice startles me. She’s standing by the doorway, looking at me with concern. “What are you doing here?”

            “I couldn’t sleep,” I lie. The truth is I _can_ sleep, but it leads me to haunted places I don’t wish to visit.

            “I know,” she says, walking to me and hugging me. “Tomorrow is a very important day. I’m sure you’re anxious.”

            Yeah. Let’s pretend it’s because of that.

            “There’s no need to be in here, honey,” she tells me. “Come’n. Go back to bed and try to get some sleep.”

            I give a last glance at Jacob’s bedroom before returning to my own. Grandma sits next to me in bed, running her fingers through my hair in a comforting way. I’m sure she’s hurting more than I am, so there’s no need for me to worry her even more with my bizarre nightmares.

            From the clock above my desk, I can see it’s past midnight. Today it’s the day I’ll finally go to Diagon Alley to get all my supplies for Hogwarts. I know I should be more excited, but I’m actually afraid. I know what reputation Jacob probably has in Hogwarts and I’m sure people will believe we’re one of a kind. It frightens me that I might walk through all seven school years with no friend.

            I don’t know how many hours pass before I fall asleep again, but when I wake up there are strong sunbeams flooding my bedroom, warming the chills inside my heart.

            My grandparents seem to be more excited than I am and I’m not sure why. I think it’s very sweet of them having volunteered to look after me while mom and dad are out looking for Jake. There’s a big pile of hot waffles on the table, along with a bubbling cup of tea.

            “Are you excited for our trip to London?,” grandpa asks, taking a sip from his tea.

            “Sure,” I lie, trying my best to portray a beautiful excited smile.

            Grandpa gives me a sweet smile, putting down his cup and opening the newspaper. He always smells of tobacco and this scent is strangely calming.

            A trip that would take hours, from Sunderland to London, is much faster when using Flu Powder. I have traveled like this before, but the dust still bothers me a bit. I guess I still prefer trains.

             The Leaky Cauldron is just as I remember, from five years ago, when I came with my parents to get Jake’s supplies. It still is very gloomy, very dusty and smells really funny. Grandpa rushed to the counter to give a warm greeting to the bartender. Grandma clears her throat so Grandpa knows he doesn’t have all day to sit and chat.

            We walk to the small alley behind the bar, where Grandpa touches his wand on the bricks of the solid wall, in a well-known pattern, and the bricks move and twist, forming a glorious archway under which we can walk.

            “Agatha!” someone yells from the crowd. “So long no see! And Sebastian! Roger, come here! Agatha and Sebastian are here!”

            An old woman walks to my grandparents, looking very happy with bright red cheeks. An old man looking much more serene arrives by her side, nodding at grandma and grandpa.

            “Roger, Amelia. It’s so nice to see you,” grandma says politely. “Have you met Athena? She got her letter last week.”

            “Oh, hello, dear,” the lady named Amelia looks at me with a smile. “Agatha, we have so much to talk about! Have you heard that Tristan and Madeline Snyde were sent to Azkaban? It’s said that they were helping You-Know-Who!”

            Grandpa looks at me with an accomplice smile. He passes a bag of cash to me and winks. I flash him a smile, glad that he knows I much rather be alone.

            Diagon Alley is a very confusing place, full of people rushing by, a lot of odd stores and way odder people. I walk around looking from side to side, when I suddenly crash against someone.

            “Dear God, I’m so sorry,” I say getting up. The people I bumped into is actually a very interesting looking girl. I offer my hand so she can get up.

            “It’s okay,” she says. “I wasn’t looking to where I was going.”

            “Me neither”, I smile.

            “I’m Rowan Khanna,” she says with a smile. I could already have guessed by her looks that she is Indian, but her surname confirmed it.

            “Athena Lockhart,” I say.

            “Have you bought all your supplies yet?,” she asks.

            “No, I just started. Actually, I’m not quite sure where to go.”

            “I can help you with that, if you’d like to.”

            My smile widens. Rowan seems to be a nice girl and a possible future friend. I wasn’t actually in position to deny friends, since everyone was sure to avoid me when they knew who my brother is.

            “I’d love to, Rowan,” I say.

            She takes me to Flourish & Blotts, showing me by hears all the books that I’m going to need, and pointing to a lot of very weird looking ones that she says she’d like to read. Being a book lover myself, I’m honestly happy to be around with someone who loves books and learning as much as I do.

            “My family owns a tree farm,” she explains. “We provide the wood for the wand makers. Our farm grows the best quality wood!”

            “That seems very exciting,” I say, paying for my books.

            “Speaking of wood, you must go to Olivanders right now,” she says, pulling me by my hand.

            Rowan seems to be genuinely excited about Hogwarts, talking nonstop about how she leaped around the house in screams when the letter finally arrived. Her parents were also very proud that she was a witch too.

            Arriving in front of the very dusty and old looking wand shop, a couple yelled Rowan’s name. By the look of the, they were clearly her parents.

            “Go and get your wand,” she says. “I’ll be right there.”

            I enter the cold store by myself, feeling my palms freezing with the nervousness. There is an old man behind the counter, thousands and thousands of wand boxes stacked in every single wall. He looks at me with curiosity and gives me a warm welcoming smile.

            “Here to get your first wand, my dear?,” he asks.

            I nod, feeling weird and anxious.

            “Let me take your measures, then,” he says, approaching with a measuring tape, measuring from my wrist to elbow, elbow to shoulder, shoulder to foot, and many more. He walks to the back of the store, coming back with a bunch of boxes. “Let’s give these ones a try, then.”

            He hands me a gorgeous wand, made of a light type of wood. I wonder if it’s from Rowan’s family farm.

            “Cherry wood with dragon heartstring, 11 inches, very flexible.”

            I hold it in my hand, looking curiously at it, and move it around, testing it. Immediately, the papers over the counter fly around, falling messily on the floor.

            “I’m so sorry,” I say, putting the wand carefully inside its box.

            “It’s okay, dear,” he says with a smile. “Your brother broke my favorite ink-pot when he came here to buy his first wand too.”

            “You remember my brother, sir?,” I ask. I wasn’t present when Jake got his wand. I was actually getting ice cream with dad while mom took Jake to Olivanders.

            “Oh yes,” he says. “I remember every wand I ever sold. Your brother’s was maple wood with dragon heartstring, 10 inches. It’s a shame they broke it when he was expelled. It was an excellent wand.”

            “He ran away from home after that,” I’m not sure why I’m telling this man about what happened to my brother. I guess after long months of silence, my mouth couldn’t just keep itself shut anymore. “He’s missing ever since.”

            “That must have deeply impacted you, no?”

            “I feel bad for him. He loved Hogwarts. I just… hope he’s okay.”

            “Hmmm, sensibility might be your greatest strength then,” he says, offering me a different wand. This has a very interesting scent. “Cinnamon tree, unicorn hair, 12 inches, flexible.”

            _Cinnamon._ So that’s the weird delicious scent I’m feeling.

            “Give it a try.”

            I wave the wand lightly and a gently breeze flows around me, my hair softly floating around, and I feel a nice warmth deep inside my heart. It feels really nice, actually.

            “Perfect,” Olivanders says with a satisfied smile. “This wand shall be your best friend, Miss Lockhart. Take good care of it.”

            “I will. Thank you so much, sir.”

            The outside of the store is much lighter and warmer, but I don’t feel anxious or weird anymore. I’m not sure if it was the soothing sensation of my wand choosing me, or being able to talk about what happened to Jake with someone, without feeling judgmental eyes all over me.

            “Athena!” Rowan calls from the other side of the pathway. “Did you get your wand?”

            “Yeah! Cinnamon with unicorn hair core,” I tell her and she sweetly smiles at me.

            “Mine is mahogany, directly from Khanna’s farm! I’m so happy I could burst!”

            “Please, don’t. Who would clean all the bits of brain and guts from the floor?” I giggle.

            She smiles.

            “I’m glad I met you, Athena. People usually think I’m very strange… do you think I’m strange?”

            “People say the same about me, Rowan,” I tell her with a comforting smile.

            “But who would say such thing?”

            “Well… my brother is Jacob Lockhart”.

            “ _Jacob Lockhart?_ ” she asks exasperated. “The same Jacob Lockhart who was expelled from Hogwarts by breaking all the rules in search of the Cursed Vaults?”

            “The same.”

            “This story came out on the Daily Prophet. All school will know you’re his sister.”

            “I know,” I say sadly. “People will think I’m weird too.”

            I feel Rowan’s warm hand landing softly on my shoulder.

            “It’s okay, Athena,” she says. “We can be weird together.”

            “Thank you, Rowan. That’s very sweet of you.”

            “But what should I do if people start disturbing you about your brother?”

            “Nothing, I guess. I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me. It will only draw more attention.”

            “You’re probably right. We’ll have a lot to occupy our heads, with all the exciting classes we’ll have,” she flashes me a smile.

            “That’s true,” I say. “I’m truly happy I met you, Rowan.”

            The rest of the day is peaceful and fun next to Rowan. We eat ice cream together, buy our school robes, our cauldrons and potion’s supplies, and when realize, it’s time to go home.

            Grandma and grandpa are still talking to the strange couple, but now they’re coming out from the Eeyelops Owl Emporium.

            “Athena, there you are!” my grandma says. “Who’s your friend?”

            “Grandma, grandpa, this is Rowan Khanna,” I say. “Rowan, there are my grandparents.”

            “Very nice to meet you,” Rowan says.

            “Khanna? Of the wand tree farm?” grandpa asks.

            “That’s it.”

            “I had the pleasure of knowing your grandfather, Mohan. An extremely intelligent man. We went to Ravenclaw together,” grandpa says with a nostalgic smile.

            “Daada was really very intelligent. He’s one of my role models,” Rowan explains, which leads me think her grandfather has already passed away. “Wow, a Great Horned Owl!” she exclaims, looking at the huge owl inside the cage my grandpa is holding.

            “Oh, yes. Athena, we got this for you. An early Christmas gift, if I may say so,” he says, lifting the cage. The owl is immense, with big yellow eyes. “After all, the wisdom goddess must have its owl, right?”

            This is the type a smile impossible to fake. I look at grandpa with tears in my eyes and a wide smile on my lips. For a moment, I thank the skies for still having him in my life.

            The big owl looks at me with sunshine eyes.

            “She… he… is gorgeous, thank you so much!” I say, hugging them both equally.

            “ _He,_ ” grandma corrects. “I’m sure you’ll be great friends”.

            That night, I finally sleep with no nightmares. My new friend Twilight watches over me from the top of the canopy, his bright yellow eyes reassuring me and making me feel that even though I’m haunted by my brother’s mistakes, at least I’ll go to Hogwarts with two new friends and the promise of a bright future.


	2. Blue Meets Black

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to all my readers. I honestly hope you’re enjoying the story. A big thank you to James, who taught me how to correctly write my dialogues. In this chapter you’ll see the students being sorted into their respective houses. I took the liberty of checking all the students that are currently existing in the Hogwarts Mystery game (290 so far) and classified them in an Excel spread sheet (the perks of working with data analysis) and separated them into their respective houses, year and gender. That’s why you’ll find fourteen new Ravenclaws during the ceremony. In addition, I know the game claims that there are only five students per dormitory, but only because there are only five during Harry’s school years. I read that an Extension Charm can be used, so dorms can be expanded or reduced depending of the number of students sorted in any given year. Thank you again for reading. Any comments, critiques and concerns, feel free to contact me.

God, I’ve missed trains. They’re so much nicer and comfortable than Flu Powder. You can rest, enjoy the landscapes, eat, and not worry about getting dust all over your clothes.

Rowan sat with me in the same wagon, talking nonstop about her favorite book so far: Hogwarts, A History. Apparently, Rowan is even more nerd than I am, and that’s very reassuring. We spent all eight hours of our lovely ride from London to Scotland talking about everything, eating cauldron cakes and discussing what we think would be our favorite subjects.

“I reckon I’ll love History of Magic. It’s said that the professor is a ghost! Isn’t that exciting?,” Rowan shrieked in joy.

“Well, I think I’m going to love Potions,” I say. “I’ve watched my grandma making amazing potions and I think it’s pretty fantastic.”

“But I’ve heard the Potions professor is a cranky man. He’s been teaching for just a few years now, but already holds a reputation. There are rumors that he is a _Death Eater_ ,” Rowan said, darkly. “I’ve hear he was a Slytherin and that he only likes Slytherins. I don’t know how we’ll manage to get House Points with him.”

“Jeez, Rowan. Thanks for the bustle,” I laugh, rolling my eyes. “I’m sure I’ll survive our dreadful Potions master.”

The rest of the trip is fun and serene, with lots of laughter and conversation. When the night falls upon the train, we put on our robes and wait for the train to finally stop.

We’re awaited at the station for the biggest man I’ve ever seen in my life. He seems to be more than eleven feet tall, with tangled black hair and beard, and small black eyes that resemble little beetles.

“Welcome, students. Please, all the first-years students follow me ter the boats,” he says with a deep yet sweet voice.

Rowan crossed her arms with mine, looking super excited and hopping like a bunny. We arrive at a set of wooden boats, beautifully floating over the crystalline surface of a huge lake. The water is so dark it reflects the moon and the starts above us.

“This is the Black Lake. Please, dunnot fall in it. The Giant Squid won’t like it,” he giggles and his laughter is like a thunder.

When the boats get to the other side, I can’t feel my hand, because Rowan held it all the way through, squishing it like a marshmallow. The boats take us to a little pier with a staircase that leads to the most incredible castle I’ve ever seen. In the top of the staircase is a forty-something woman with jet black hair in a tight bun on her nape. She’s wearing night blue robes and a pointy hat and looks austere and intimidating.

“Good night, students”, she says with a soft smile. “I am Professor McGonagall. The start of the term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slythering. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, you house will be like your family. Your triumphs will earn you points, and any rule-breaking will lose you points. At the end of the school year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup. The Sorting Ceremony will begin in a few moments, so please, wait here.”

“What house do you think you’ll be selected to?,” Rowan asks, trembling in excitement.

“I don’t know,” I confess. “I think it would be nice to be in Ravenclaw. You know, like our grandfathers.”

“And like your bro…,” Rowan is interrupted by the noble figure of Professor McGonagall, that bears a subtle smile on her thin lips.

“We are ready for you. Follow me, please.”

Rowan immediately hooks her arms in mine, so hard that I can almost feel her heartbeat. I press my lips together, taking a deep breath in, and following Professor McGonagall along with all the other students. I notice they are all looking at each other with wide scared eyes, with no idea what’s waiting for us across the door.

From all the stories my parents, grandparents and my brothers told me, they still weren’t able to suppress my astonishment when we entered the Great Hall. There were flags with Hogwarts coat of arms, a magical starry sky just above our heads, hundreds of floating candles hovering above four long tables, full with students divided according with their houses. We walk together in between the tables of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, where lots of eyes look at us curiously, heading to the long table where all teachers are waiting for us.

I can already spot Professor Dumbledore, with his long white hair and even longer white beard, wearing a pointy hat and velvety burgundy robes. The spot on his right side is empty, so I suppose it’s McGonagall’s seat.

She brings a small wooden stool and places it in front of the teacher’s table, in a place everyone can see. Rowan looks at me apprehensive. Over the stool, she gently puts a very old looking hat. It seems much older and shredded than grandpa’s stories.

  “When I can your names,” she says unfolding a long piece of parchment “you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted.”

Rowan’s arm hooked in mine is getting tighter. If she doesn’t let go, I’ll begin the school term with an amputated arm. And it’s my _right_ arm. How will I manage the wand with my clumsy left hand?

“Adaline Allen,” Professor McGonagall called and I watched a short girl with ebony skin and curly voluminous hair walk to the stool. McGonaggal placed the hat over her head and we all waited in silence.

It took less than a minute for the hat to announce in a very excited voice:

“Ravenclaw!”

 A sudden standing ovation made my heart beat like crazy. Ravenclaw’s table was pure hysteria when the girl called Adaline Allen rushed to join them.

I swallowed hard. _Oh. My. God._ Are they going to welcome me in happy applause when everyone obviously knows who my brother is? This thought makes my guts twist and for a moment I think I am going to vomit.

A bunch of names are called before mine. Addison Butler… Ben Cooper… Penny Haywood… Logan Johnson… Rowan Khanna.

Rowan looks at me completely terrified. She walks to the stoll with wide eyes, obviously scared when the hat touches her long black hair.

“Ravenclaw!,” the hat yells in a few seconds.

Rowan’s smile looks like a half moon, bright and big, when she gives me a excited look and runs to join Adaline Allen and her fellow Ravenclaws.

_Damn_.

Two boys with surnames starting with L are sorted before I hear…

“Athena Lockhart.”

My heart stops. I don’t have the courage to look around. I’m sure there are hundreds of judgmental stared from every corner of the Great Hall and I don’t want to acknowledge them. I just want to study, become a wise witch and don’t go looking for trouble.

I walk to the stool, Professor McGonagall looking at me with a frown. Is she wondering if I’ll be a trouble-maker like my brother?

_Oh, Jacob. Why did you have to go looking for the Cursed Vaults?_

She puts that raggedy hat over my head and I wait. A sudden deep voice comes from inside my head, making my whole body feel cold and unease.

“Oh, I see your conflicts, Athena Lockhart,” the hat says in a smooth voice. “Afraid people will judge you by your brother’s mistakes, desperate for true loyal friends, helplessly looking for knowledge and wisdom. Your inner demons remind me of an outstanding witch I had the pleasure of knowing. You have the bravery of a true Gryffindor, the sensibility of a Hufflepuff, the ambition of true Slytherins… but I think you’re better at RAVENCLAW,” he yells to the whole room.

I sigh in relief, happy to be in the same house as my brother, but a lonely applause makes me lift my face to look at my house’s table. Only Rowan is standing, clapping like crazy, ignoring the silence coming from my fellow Ravenclaws.

I confess I’m not surprised at all.

I join Rowan, looking at her with a sad smile, but her hand on my shoulder and a reassuring smile is enough to make me feel better. I have Rowan and Twilight after all. I don’t need people to like me or judgmental colleagues who aren’t even bothering to know me.

Another twenty-two students are sorted before the ceremony ends. Ravenclaw alone got fourteen new members, twelve girls and two boys, who are staring desperate at the other, wondering how they’ll function with so many girls. One of them I remember to be called James Lee, a sweet-looking Japanese boy which was sorted just before me.

A ticking sound from Professor McGonagall gently taping a fork in her crystal glass makes all heads turn to the teacher’s table. I notice a short man sitting next to her, apparently sitting over a bunch of books. He has a very messy brown hair and a beard, but extremely kind eyes.

“That’s Filius Flitwick, if you’re wondering,” Rowan whispers to me. “He’s the head of Ravenclaw house and Charms teacher.”

I smile, but deep inside I wish Professor Flitwick do not judge me by Jake’s mistakes. I’ll do my best to succeed at Charms and at every other subject.

Professor Dumbledore stands up, opening his arms like’s he’s calling everyone for a hug.

“Welcome, welcome,” he says, and his voice is very much like my grandfather’s. “Another year of witchcraft and wizardry lies ahead! It is my obligation to inform the new students and remember the old ones, that the Dark Forest is strictly forbidden to all students.”

Professor Dumbledore glances at the Slytherin table. It’s too soon to guess, but I assume that they’re not very fond of following the rules.

“Our world is now at peace now that Lord Voldemort is gone” I see a bunch of students frowning with the sound of You-Know-Who’s name. “The cause of his defeat was young Harry Potter, the son of the famous aurors, James and Lily Potter.”

I spot a young man in the teacher’s table, looking completely distressed after hearing those names. He is tall, pale, with a hooked nose and very black eyes. His smooth jet black hair frames his severe looking face, barely touching his shoulders. Through the veil of anger, he’s actually a quite handsome man, probably in his early twenties.

“ _That’s_ the teacher I was telling you about,” Rowan murmurs. “The Potions one. The _Death Eater_ one.”

Looking carefully at him, he _actually_ looks like he could be a Death Eater. He seems so hold a lot of darkness inside, even in such young age. I wonder if I’ll be able to succeed in Potions if I manage to trespass that curtain of shadows surrounding him.

When his black eyes meet mine, a indistinct frown upon his face, I can’t help but to sustain that stare, feeling as if he’s reading my mind.

“In a few years young Harry is sure to join us, but until then, I hope we enjoy ourselves in these times of peace. Now, let’s delight ourselves in this incredible feast!”

My eyes widen when I see a bunch of food magically appearing right before my eyes, covering the table in roasted potatoes, buttered vegetables, pork and so many other foods that my mouth starts watering.

“Pumpkin juice, Athena?,” Rowan offers me a sweaty jar of cold pumpkin juice.

“No, thank you, Rowan,” I say. “I’m not very fond of pumpkin juice.”

“That’s okay. I believe there are about ten different types of juice for you to choose.”

Ravenclaw table is noisy with conversations about all kinds of topics, but all first year students seem to be really quiet. Rowan, of course, has the cure for that.

“My parents own a tree farm which provided the wood for wand makers. Mine is mahogany. What’s yours made of?” she asks a girl with long wavy ginger hair.

The girl looks at Rowan with wide brown eyes. I think it’s not every day you meet a chatty Indian girl who can’t seem to shut up. Deep inside, I’m thankful for Rowan’s chattering.

“Hmmm,” the girl says. “Mine is made out of mulberry tree. It has a very funny smell.”

“Mine too,” now I understand why Rowan chose the wand topic. She knew it would be a good conversation for me to join in. “Mine is cinnamon.”

“I’ve heard cinnamon wands are perfect for very sensible people,” the boy named James Lee says. “I’m James, by the way.”

“Athena Lockhart.”

“Rowan Khanna.”

“Tulip Karasu,” the ginger girl says.

“ _Karasu_ ,” Rowan repeats. “That’s a very interesting surname.”

“It’s Turkish,” the girl explains.

And just like that, with meaningless conversations about wands and origins, I get to meet my fellow Ravenclaws. The older ones are still not addressing me the word, but that’s okay, because Rowan is my friend, and now James, Tulip, Addison, Piper and a lot of other colleagues whose names I’m still to memorize seem to look at me with friendly eyes now. The barrier between us seems to be broken and I truly expect they don’t continue to judge my because of my brother.

I give a one last glance at the dark Potions professor.

_How am I supposed to break_ your _barrier?_


	3. Mushrooms

I have been living with my grandparents for the past months, while mom and dad are wandering around the world, helplessly trying to find Jake. And for these past months, grandpa used to ask me funny riddles before handing me breakfast. He said I wasn’t allowed to eat if I didn’t get the riddles right. Of course he wouldn’t do that, but it was our own private joke. I don’t remember ever getting one wrong, because every time grandpa would flash me a big proud smile and hand me a plate full of buttery pancakes. Or waffles. Or whatever delicious meal grandma had cooked.

That’s why everything made sense to me when we stepped in front of Ravenclaw’s Common Room door, made from solid wood, with a bronze eagle head right in the middle, severely staring at us. I wasn’t expecting the eagle to talk, though.

“Only those of quick wit and mind are permitted to enter Ravenclaw Tower,” the eagle said smoothly. “If you wish to join your peers, you must prove yourself by answering the following riddle.”

I smiled. So _that’s_ why grandpa was always challenging me with strange riddles. He was _preparing_ me.

“What is a room no one can enter?,” the eagle asked serene.

Rowan looked at me with a frown. I couldn’t help but to giggle. _A room no one can enter._ From what I had learned from grandpa’s riddles, the answer would probably contain the word _room_.

“A mushroom,” I answer anxiously.

“Correct,” the eagle says, and the door instantly opens, revealing a breathtaking common room.

“Way to go, Athena!,” Rowan says looking at me with a big smile.

Ravenclaw’s Prefect, a boy called Chester Davies, flashes me an impressed glance.

The Common Room is gorgeous, wide and airy, with an outstanding view of the mountains. The domed ceiling is painted with thousands of flickering stars.

I immediately spot a concave bookcase, protected by two tall pillars with big bronzy eagles on top. Right between them, like a guardian to all knowledge, is an amazing marble statue of fair Rowena Ravenclaw. I approach the statue with astonishment. The statue is so realistic that it seems to be looking at me.

“See that tiara on her head?,” Rowan says, standing next to me. “It’s her lost diadem. It’s said that it would bring great knowledge to whoever wore it. That’s why her daughter Helena stole it; trying to be more intelligent than her mother.”

I look at Rowan with a smile. She’s like an encyclopedia.

“Helena’s ghost is Ravenclaw’s ghost now,” she continues. “But most people call her the Grey Lady.”

“Athena Lockhart,” I hear someone calling from behind me. I turn around and see an older boy, tall and blonde with sun-kissed skin. “I can’t believe you were accepted after your retarded brother was expelled and ruined Ravenclaw’s reputation.”

“I didn’t choose to be in Ravenclaw,” I say, trying hard not to show fear.

“We certainly _didn’t_ want you here,” he says with disgust.

“Cut it out, Levi,” the Prefect Chester Davies interrupts, putting a solemn hand over Levi’s shoulder. “She got the riddle correctly. She _belongs_ in Ravenclaw.”

“Just because she got _one_ riddle correctly doesn’t mean she’s suited for this house.”

“And just because you’re stupidly self-righteous doesn’t mean _you_ belong in here,” Chester says with a firm tone.

The boy named Levi flashed me disgustful stare and walks away, heading to the boys dormitory.

“I’m sorry, Athena. I wanted to do something about it, but you asked me not to do anything…,” Rowan says with a sad frown.

“Thanks Rowan. I think if I just ignore it, people won’t bother me about my brother,” I say with a smile. “And thank you, Chester.”

“That’s okay, Athena,” our Prefect says. “Just stay out of trouble.”

I smile at him, internally _hoping_ that I’ll _in fact_ stay out of trouble.

There are a lot of desks, sofas and bookcases around the Common Room. Right in the middle there’s a spiral staircase that leads to the dormitories downstairs. There are only two doors, as Rowan and I can notice, and I wonder how this is supposed to work out.

“It’s a spell,” Rowan explains. “You can only enter the bedroom destined to your specific school year.”

I open the door carefully, stepping in an amazingly huge circular bedroom, with twelve canopy beds, all decorated in blue and bronze.

“Thank goodness I like blue,” I say, looking for my bed.

A soft hoot startles me and I spot a Great Horned Own in the window.

_Twilight._

I walk to my magnificent friend, gently rubbing his smooth feathers. He looks at me with bright yellow eyes.

“Did you make friends at the Owlery already?,” I ask.

“The Owlery is really close to our tower,” Rowans says. “Did you have a chance to look at your schedule yet?”

“Yes. Herbology with Professor Sprout, Transfiguration with McGonagall…”

“What are you looking forward the most?,” she asks.

“Potions, I guess,” I say, petting Twilight’s wing. He winks at me, looking rather satisfied.

“Well, Potions is only at 10:20,” she says grabbing her schedule from her nightstand. “Oh, _tatti_ , Transfiguration is only at night! That’s a bummer.”

“Hmmm, Rowan? What exactly does _tatti_ mean?,” I ask curiously.

“Well…,” she seems embarrassed. “I’m not actually _supposed_ to say this. It’s an ugly Indian word.”

I smile at her, rolling my eyes at her weirdness.

Rowan’s bed is right next to mine, and when she finally lay down to sleep, I am actually feeling way better than I thought I would. Even with Levi thinking I’m an abomination to our house, I feel that I can really rely on Rowan and, perhaps, even Chester.

The nightmares begin to haunt me the minute I close my eyes. I feel cold and a heavy weight in my heart. I’m standing in Jake’s bedroom, looking at all his things over his nightstand: a Polaroid of us at the beach, his glasses, his Arithmancy book… I can see his guitar over his bed, the radio over his desk and the jukebox next to his wardrobe. Since dad was from a muggle family, we still owned a lot of muggle stuff…

I gently run my fingers over the cover of his book and a freezing sensation paralyzes me. My fingers start to become ice, the same happens with the book. The ice spreads quickly to my hand and wrist and when I realize, I’m suffocating in an immensity of ice.

I wake up as usual, drench in sweat but feeling awfully cold. It’s still dark outside and I can hear the breathing of my colleagues who are deeply asleep. None of them seems to be bothered by the cold. I pull the heavy blanket over my shoulders, leaving only my nose and eyes exposed. Slowly I start to feel warm again and the rest of the night is a dreamless sleep.

The end of summer brings a chilly breeze from the windows when I get out of the bathroom, wearing my Ravenclaw uniform. Somehow, during the Ceremony, all ties, scarves and the insides of our robes changed color to match our houses. I’m proudly wearing my blue and bronze tie, looking at myself in the mirror, trying to portray the best focused expression. My long blonde hair is flawlessly brushed, there are no wrinkles on my clothes and I have everything I need in my backpack. It’s actually one of those satchel bags, made of very old leather, which belonged to my mom when she attended Hogwarts. The inside still has her name printed in a beautiful golden color: Annette Lockhart.

It is a tradition in my family (at least from my mother’s side) that all girls possess a name starting with the letter A. I’m Athena, my mother is Annette, my stuck-up aunt is Anise (yes, like the plant), my grandma is Agatha, and so on. It’s nice to have something to remember her, now that’s she’s incessantly looking for Jake. I wish I could go looking for him with her and dad.

My first breakfast at Hogwarts is a sweet surprise. Right when I sit down, between Rowan and Tulip, I see lots and lots of things I like to eat. I’m immediately drawn to some golden waffles, which look just like the ones my grandma makes. Along with some black tea, it’s a sweet, sweet morning.

Rowan is stuffing her mouth with a blueberry muffin when we notice a lot of owls entering the Great Hall. They all start dropping letters and packages, and I’m honestly surprised when Twilight drops a small box in front of me. I give him a treat I’ve bought in the Diagon Alley. I was planning on visiting him right after breakfast, but I guess he was faster than me. He blinks sweetly and takes flight, his huge body producing no sound at all.

I open the package and find a beautiful velvety box. Inside, there’s the most beautiful wrist watch I’ve ever seen, along with a small note.

_The prettiest Ravenclaw in the world cannot be late for class! I’m so proud of you! Love, Grandpa._

I smile at his words, promising that I’ll send him a letter as soon as possible.

The watch has a shiny bronzy bracelet, the numbers and hands are made of bronze too, but the background is of the most beautiful star-stone, with a dark blue, almost black, color, filled with tiny little sparks that resemble stars in the night sky. Grandpa is the best.

The bulletin board in the hallway is already full of fliers. Someone named Lucy Williams already lost her Charms book, there’s a guy named Andrew Clark offering private Astronomy lessons, the Quidditch teams’ trials are in three weeks and Flitwick is looking for new members to the Frog Choir.

First years are not allowed on the Quidditch teams, so I wonder if maybe I could join the Choir. I have always loved singing and it would be nice to have an extracurricular activity.

I walk with Rowan to the dungeons, which is cold and humid, but it makes me rather excited that I’m on my way to my first Potions class.

The Potions classroom is also cold and humid, but it’s also dark and gloomy, since there’s no natural light and only candles to enlighten the place. Though outside is very much sunny, in here is like it is still night. Rowan sits next to me, right behind James and the other new Ravenclaw boy, Sebastian Jenkins.

We hear the heavy sound of the door being closed and the dark Potions teacher enters the classroom, his black robes floating around his feet, and he stops in front of the blackboard, staring intensely at us.

He seems taller now that he’s standing, but maybe that’s because my eleven year old self is still very short. The whole classroom is in a sepulchral silence and the professor cross his arms before speaking.

“I’m Professor Severus Snape,” he says and that simple introduction sound like an order. “I shall not tolerate stupid spells or pranks in this class. I do not expect you to understand the subtle art of the preparing of potions. I hope, nevertheless, that there’s at least one of you who will be able to succeed in my class,” his voice is deep and very sharp. “The potion we will prepare today is a very simple one, so I will not tolerate mistakes. Who is able to tell me the properties of the Boil Cure Potion?”

I look around, biting my bottom lip before raising my hand. Professor Snape looks at me with severe eyes and it almost makes me want to hide my hand.

“Miss?,” he says, looking at me with a frown.

“Lockhart, sir,” I say, trying me make my voice sound as determined as possible.

“Lockhart,” he repeats, crossing his hands behind his back and walking around the classroom. “Relative to Jacob Lockhart, I suppose”.

“Yes, sir,” I say, staring at my hands.

“He was so young, but already a trouble-maker. Am I to expect the same of you, Miss Lockhart?”

“No, sir.”

“Then tell me, Miss Lockhart, is Gilderoy Lockhart _also_ your relative?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Am I to expect you to be as conceited as him, Miss Lockhart?”

“No, sir.”

I can feel all eyes on me and it’s making me feel really uncomfortable. Rowan looks at me with _I told you so_ eyes. I simply stare at the closed book in front of me, trying my best to ignore everything else.

“Then tell me, Miss Lockhart, the properties of the Boil Cure Potion.”

I take a deep breath, my heart pounding heavy in my chest. There’s no reason for me to feel obscured or intimidated by Professor Snape. I _should not_ let he intimidate me.

“The Boil Cure Potion is used to, as its name suggest, cure boils, even the ones produced by the Pimple Jinx,” I answer, drying the sweat from my hands in my skirt.

“Correct,” he says. “And what is expected if the potion is prepared incorrectly?”

“It has been known to cause even _more_ boils, rather than cure them.”

“That’s also correct,” he says, turning to face me, staring at me with jet-black eyes. “Now, pay close attention while I _correctly_ teach you how to prepare it.”

I try my best to exclude every sound except for Professor Snape’s voice. His deep dulcet voice calmly explains the ingredients we’re going to use, the correct temperature, the proper way to stir… I take very careful notes about everything, underlining the steps he puts emphasis on. I’m going to be great in this subject. _I have to._

When we finally start the potion, I notice a very strange girl looking at me with anger. She has caramel hair and very obvious dark circles around her eyes. I’m not sure why’s she looking at me like that, but I wonder if she has trouble to sleep.

“If your potion is prepared correctly, it will have a blue-colored tint to it and it there will be pink smoke rising from the cauldron.”

I read the instructions attentively, glancing at the blackboard and at my notes, doing specifically what Professor Snape explained. I crush six snake fangs into a fine powder, add four measures of this powder to the cauldron, I heat the mixture to 250 degrees for ten seconds, I wave my wand and I wait 33 minutes for it to brew. In between it all, I wonder who first invented this potions and how many times he or she got it all wrong until figuring out the correct way to do it.

When the 33 minutes end, the potion is of a pale lilac color. I take a deep breath and pray that everything is going well. Professor Snape walks by my table and lift his eyebrows, saying nothing. I don’t like to admit it, but is presence _is_ intimidating.

Then I add four horned slugs to the cauldron. It makes me feel a little bad for throwing living things into the boiling mixture, but I also don’t want to fail Potions.

_Bye, bye, little slugs_ , I think while throwing them into my potion. Then I carefully take my cauldron off the fire. The instructions say specifically that the cauldron _must_ be out from the fire before adding the next ingredient. Then I add two porcupine quills and stir it five times, clockwise.

_Clockwise, clockwise, clockwise_ , I repeat to myself.

Then I add two death cap mushrooms. The white funguses remind me of last night’s riddle and I smile at them, thinking of how fascinating mushrooms can be. The ones I’m holding are deadly, but when correctly added to a potion, they can become medicine. I wonder if I’ll like the Herbology classes too.

Finally, I do the precise movement Professor Snape taught us, waving my wand to finish the potion. When I do it, a very strange smelling pink smoke rises from my cauldron, and when the smoke dissipates, the potion has a beautiful blue color.

I smile at my potion, feeling incredibly proud of myself. I promise myself to tell grandpa and grandma everything in the letter I’m planning on write before bedtime.

Snape stops in front of my table, intensely staring at me.

“Satisfied with your potion, Miss Lockhart?,” he asks, serenely.

 “Very much, sir,” I say, taking a sample from my potion and putting it in a labeled flask, as he asked. In my usual fluid handwriting, I label it _Boil Cure Potion; Athena Lockhart; First Year._

When the class ends, I leave my flask over Professor Snape’s desk and give him one last glance, trying my best to support his intense stare.

I meet Rowan at the door, and she hooks her arm in mine, looking at me with wide eyes.

“That was terrifying!,” she exclaims. “I was so afraid of doing it wrong!”

“Me too, Rowan. Me too.”

“But you seemed so focused! How did you manage to relax with Snape watching you like a hawk?”

“He was watching me?,” I lift one brow in surprise. “Maybe he was making sure I wasn’t a trouble-maker like my brother… Or a peacock like Gil.”

“ _Speaking_ of Gil…,” she says. “Your cousin is a legend around here. I heard he once sent eight hundred Valentine’s Day cards to himself and the breakfast had to be cancelled, you know, because of all the owl dirt and everything.”

“Legend, Rowan? Really?” I say. “Gil may be handsome, but he’s helpless. If our fellow Ravenclaws don’t understand how _I_ got in this house, _I_ will never understand how _he_ got in. You should see him during our Christmas dinners. Like a shiny little peacock! And my Aunt Anise is useless too. Always bragging about how perfect he is and making him even fuller of himself. Like that’s even possible…”

“Wow,” she says. “You sound really bitter about it.”

“It’s just that my brother, _his cousin_ , is missing and he just gives two craps about it. Pardon my language.”

“It’s okay, Athena,” she says. “I guess Snape’s class really overwhelmed you.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” I tell her with a sigh. “There were a lot of repressed feelings in that class. But maybe that’s better. Maybe if Professor Snape is mean and very severe, it will make me a better witch.”

“Maybe,” she says. “Or you might explode. But don’t worry. I’ll clean all the pieces of your brain and guts.”

“Thanks, Row,” I giggle, walking with her to school grounds for our free period before lunch.

Outside, the sun is shining and I immediately feel better when the beams touch my skin. I’m usually more of a winter person, but since my chilly nightmares, I’ve become drawn to the sun. There’s not a single cloud in the sky and a gentle breeze is flowing, making the grass and the wild flowers dance in the wind.

I sit with Rowan under a big sycamore tree, looking at the castle ahead, and a take a deep breath in, feeling all that forestry scent, and it makes me feel better. My eyes are suddenly drawn to something odd growing by the tree bark.

There are a lot of Inky Cap Mushrooms growing around the tree, looking, as the name suggests, that they’re dripping ink. They’re so funny looking and I know they are edible and can also be used in many different potions. Impulsively, I grab a clean cloth from my bag and place a bunch of them over it, wrapping it carefully.

“What are you doing?,” Rowans asks curiously.

“I’ll meet you at lunch,” I say. “There’s something I need to do.”

I rush to the castle, climbing down the stone stairs that lead to the cold dungeons. The Potion classroom’s door is open and from the doorway I can see Professor Snape correcting our potions.

“Professor?” I call him from the doorway, and when he looks at me with lifted eyebrows, I carefully enter the room, still waiting for him to ditch me. “I found these Inky Cap Mushrooms growing under a sycamore. They can be used in many, many potions…”

“I know what they can be used for,” he says sharply.

“I know,” I tell him. “I thought a great potions master as you, sir, would find them very useful. Anyway, I’m deeply sorry for disturbing you.”

“Miss Lockhart,” his deep voice stops me while I’m walking to the door. “What were your true intentions bringing me these mushrooms?”

I swallow hard before talking.

“I want you to know that I’m not like my brother,” I say. “Nor my cousin.”

And by saying that, I leave the classroom, feeling light as a feather, and with the funniest of thoughts flowing through my mind.

_Maybe, with the correct potion or spell, a mushroom can, in fact, become a room._


End file.
